All Good Things to Those Who Wait
by get in loser
Summary: Deep in the dungeon of Arendelle, Hans waits in the darkness. He's been waiting for a while, waiting for the queen or princess to visit him. What surprises him is the former ice-seller coming down on his own behalf. Hans decides to use Kristoff's generosity and uncertainty to accomplish his own ends. Hans/Kristoff (sort of) Kristoff/Anna (mentioned) Rated T for later chapters
1. Chapter 1

Kristoff didn't know why he had come down to the dungeon. He had no reason to go, but he also had no reason _not_ to go. Except that its sole prisoner almost killed his wife and sister-in-law. But that didn't bother him as much as it should. The walls were cold and wet and reminded him of the many times he sought shelter in the cave near the base of the North Mountain when it was too late to continue the journey up. Of course Sven was with him to keep company and heat, but the reindeer wasn't with him this time; he was in the stables with Anna's and Hans' horse.

Hans.

He had come down to visit Arendelle's most hated villain. Kristoff stopped on the third to last step, wondering if he should go back. His ears strained to hear a noise (maybe the ex-prince was asleep and snoring softly, or keeping himself busy by drawing on the layer of dirt) but none came. There was, of course, himself breathing calmly through his nose, and the muffled sounds of guards and servants laughing and talking and working.

A chain rattled and a bitter, surprisingly strong voice came out from around the corner. "I know you're there ice-seller."

Kristoff nearly jumped at the sudden noise. He hadn't expected Hans to know who he was, let alone guess it was him.

"I suppose you don't do that anymore, though. Now you're just a king. How _lucky_ you must feel."

The king swallowed and went down the final steps. His padded shoes were soft against the cobblestone floor as he went in front of the cell's bars. Hans was slumped against the corner of the wall. Half of his face, covered in shadow, made Kristoff shiver. The other side of his face glowed in the moonlight, almost as pale as the moon itself. Anna had described his eyes as dreamy and his complexion as flawless, but seeing him here, like this, he wondered what she was talking about. His eyes were dull and large, purple circles hung under them. His skin was ashy, all the rosiness from his cheeks and nose had long since gone away. The prison clothes, a baggy shirt that barely covered his shoulders and cotton trousers, gave away his thinness. He was always thin, with just the slightest touch of muscle, but now he was nothing but bones and skin pulled on a little too tight. If Kristoff didn't know better, he wouldn't think this was Prince Hans of the Southern Isles.

"I don't." His voice was soft. "Feel lucky I mean. I know I should but…" He looked away at the lantern hanging on the wall. Besides the moon, the lantern was the only source of light. It dimly lit up all the cells save for the occupied one.

Hans stood up, chains rattling against each other. "Do you miss it? The ability to do whatever you want without worrying about _her_? Without worrying about anything?" Hans limped over to the cell door (the limp was courtesy of his eldest brother, who couldn't help but beat on him before sending him back) and wrapped his fingers around two thick bars. "Do you miss freedom?"

Kristoff snapped his head back towards the prisoner and scowled. "My love for Anna outweighs my homesickness. And I'm king; I have enough freedom."

That made Hans snicker. The king had never heard anything so bitter.

"You're royalty now! You have no freedom. If you slip up, there are consequences that could mean your _life_. You have to go to every royal ball, every royal christening, have to keep every nearby kingdom happy or you risk war, have to keep your own subjects happy or you risk being overthrown. The crown is heavier than you thought, King Kristoff. _Much_ heavier."

Kristoff frowned. "And you could handle it better? You nearly sent this and your own kingdom to war! Murder is something that costs your life, royalty or not."

Hans shrugged, adjusting his shirt to cover more of his shoulders. "Murder means a death sentence unless you can justify it. With Anna, well the plan was to wait with dear little Anna but plans can go astray, it wasn't murder on my part; it was Elsa's fault, it was her who froze Anna's heart. And I was giving out the death sentence to Elsa, who almost killed her dear little sister." The prisoner said the last words with a low voice and a scowl that could give children nightmares. "Everyone would think of me as a hero."

And with that, he stepped back from the cell door and sat down on the pile of damp hay Hans called his bed. From the shadows came a small _thunk!_ which Kristoff could only imagine was Hans' head resting on the cold wall. He sighed softly, closing his eyes.

"I envy you, Kristoff." There was hesitation before the other's name, thinking about adding a king before it and deciding against it.

It made the king's expression soften. There was something terribly human about the way he said those few words. It was so different than his charm around strangers and his bitterness towards those he knew.

Kristoff turned on his heel and went up the stairs. But before he was up 5 steps, the king stopped.

"Would you like more light down here?"

"Very much."

Kristoff nodded although Hans couldn't see and continued up the stairs.

For the first time in a long time Hans smiled. But it wasn't because of Kristoff's generosity.


	2. Chapter 2

Kristoff came back a week later, this time with a lantern. He made sure there was plenty of oil to last him at least two months. Maybe it was to be nice. Maybe it was so he wouldn't have to come down to replace the oil that often.  
Maybe it was both.

The king went down the stairs, counting them in his head. 26, divided in two sets of 13 with the small platform which marked the turn and held a single candle (seemingly out of place) to illuminate the stairs. Kristoff shivered. 13 is very unlucky, after all, so he didn't linger.

This time Hans was laying down, arms folded over his chest and eyes closed. Kristoff watched the slow rise and fall of the other's chest before taking the final step down. He didn't bother stepping lightly; Hans already knew he was there. It was one of the many talents he had, telling when someone was around and he was extremely proud of it.

"You look tired today, King. You didn't sleep well?"

Kristoff hardly noticed Hans had opened his eyes. They seemed more alive than the last time, from the new light perhaps. Or maybe from the contained excitement of human company. The rest of him was the same: bags under his eyes, ashy-pale skin, so thin he could count his ribs.

"Last week you said that you had a plan. What exactly was it?"

"Why do you care about my failed plans?"

Kristoff glanced to the side; a rat scurried into a crack in the wall with a slip of crust in its mouth.

"Do you want to know if I was planning to kill Anna? If you remember a week ago, I already told you. "

Kristoff hung up the lantern on an empty hook, adjusting it so it hung straight. He stared at the wall before bowing his head.

"Yes."

"Like I said before, I was planning to wait with her, should I need to. It depended on a lot of things." Hans sat up, leaning against a barred wall and folding his hands in his lap. "I was oblivious to Elsa's powers just as everyone else. I assumed I would just marry Anna, stage a little accident for Elsa, as well as one for Anna if she found out." The prince shrugged like it was the most casual thing in the world. "But seeing how naïve she was when we first met, I doubted that would have to happen."

"So you may have killed her."

"I may have killed a lot of people. Does it upset you?"

"…Yes."

Hans smirked. "Liar."

"Excuse me?"

"You wouldn't mind if I killed her. I mean it's obvious; you're down here with the guy who almost _killed your wife and sister-in-law_. And on top of that, not even attempting to harm me or lash out. You are having a civil conversation with an _attempted murderer_ and to further prove my point, the civil conversation is centered on the idea of me killing your _not-so_ beloved."

Kristoff's hands balled into fists at his sides. His face switched to an ugly scowl over a beat-red face. "I care about Anna more than you could ever know! More than you ever _could_!" The words echoed around in the room, shocking the king by how loud he was. His throat stung slightly.

Shining, auburn eyes scrutinized the man before him and his jaw dropped slightly. "You're more pathetic than I thought…" It was a whisper, not meant for Kristoff to hear but for himself, to reassure that yes, this is what he thought. "You feel threatened by mine and Anna's relationship." These words were clearer, projected, sure.

Kristoff scoffed and shook his head. "Why would I be threatened by a relationship that lasted less than two days?"

"Because I was everything she wanted. She wanted—no—_needed_ someone new, someone who would give her the attention she was starved of. She told you about me, yes? So you know exactly how she felt and looking back on it you realize that she never talks about you, never thinks about you that way. Is that why you came down here last week? To ask what I did different than you?"

"No! I…" Kristoff stared at the ground, wondering. Is that why he came down here? Or was Hans just toying with him? Doubt crept into his mind and spread like a drop of blood in water. It would make sense; Kristoff never had a relationship with anyone before, and to extend that, never really interacted with anyone besides his adoptive family and Sven. He had no idea how to be romantic, or turn a conversation in his favor, or get someone to trust him in with less than a glance, or even how to _dance_.

Hans could do all of these things. That's why he won her heart and kept a piece of it even when he was banished to the darkest part of the castle.

He still had Anna's heart.

"You still have Anna's heart…" Barely above a whisper.

"What?"

"You still have my wife's heart."

Hans's eyes widened and his mouth fell open into a cupid's bow. Kristoff gritted his teeth, as if to stop himself from admitting the other looked…almost attractive. Damn him for thinking that now.

"And…you think that she has mine in return? Or you think that it's my responsibility to return it?" His voice was uncertain, and his questions danced around to seek firm ground.

"Both," the bigger of the two growled.

Hans wet his lips, thinking of the right words to calm the man. "It's _her_ job to take her heart back, not mine. She needs closure or she needs to get over herself and forget me." He stood, stretching his arms up until a soft _pop!_ told him his back cracked. The prisoner made his way to the cell door, face almost touching the bars. "And you should know this; _all_ of you should know this: I have _no heart_ to give. It shattered long before I even knew where Arendelle was."

Kristoff's face softened. Somehow Hans made the king pity him for the second time. The first time was when he sighed the words _'I envy you, Kristoff'_. It was despicably human, which, coming out of the monster before him, scared Kristoff as much as it made him pity the other. The second time was moments ago, just way the prince said it sent chills down the king's spine. It was filled with such…rage and hatred, but neither towards Kristoff nor anybody else. His anger was at _himself_ for not having a heart or, perhaps, anger at himself for _letting_ his heart be shattered like he said.

It made Kristoff's own heart crack.

"Wh…what made your heart shatter?"

Hans backed away from the bars and waved his hand dismissively. "Not important."

Kristoff shook his head. "I wonder how Anna ever thought you were a great man." And with that, the king turned and briskly climbed the steps.

He didn't hear Hans's last words, for he said them softly while Kristoff was already at the top stair.

"I wonder, too."

But Hans was lying. He was very good at it; and that was how Anna thought he was a good man, and that was how Kristoff began to think that maybe Hans could be saved.

What stupid people they are.


	3. Chapter 3

Kristoff returned the very next day, skipping steps in his hurry. Anna had just gone to the balcony for tea and he didn't want to make her wait long. He needed to make this visit quick. Hans sat in the hay pile, twirling a straw of it between his fingers. He hardly looked up as Kristoff came around the corner and pressed himself against the bars.

"Back so soon?" He pulled at the straw, tearing it into twelve pieces and burying them in the dirt floor.

"Yesterday, I meant what I said." The king stood in front of the cell, hands clenched into fists. He swallowed hard, the taste of lunch and guilt still in his mouth.

"You said quite a few things yesterday. You'll have to specify." Hans still didn't even glance at the other, but a small smirk played on his lips. Kristoff wanted to smack it off.

"It does upset me. You tried to kill Anna and it upsets me."

"You sure are convincing me, your majesty." His voice dripped sarcasm.

There was the creaking of rusted metal on metal, footsteps, and more metal. Kristoff opened the cell door and lifted Hans up by the collar of his prison shirt. Hans was limp from the shoulders down; legs and arms dangling. His head, however, strained to stay up and look Kristoff in the eye. The larger of the two glowered. Kristoff _almost_ looked frightening.

"I don't have the patience for your mockery now," he warned. "I do care about Anna, no matter what you say or how you psychoanalyze me."

Hans glanced at the sun's position on the wall. "Shouldn't you be having afternoon tea with Anna and Elsa?"

That earned him a slam against the wall. His head spun, and Hans swore he heard his skull crack. Kristoff's hand moved to the base of the prisoner's throat, squeezing just enough to make him uncomfortable.

"Are you so terr…terrified of facing the fact that you don't love Anna that you can't even see her anymore?" A harsher squeeze.

"I _love_ her, just because you don't understand that doesn't mean it's not true."

Hans prided himself on several things. First and foremost, his looks; he looked nothing like his father and hardly of his mother and turned out handsome. Second, he knew when other people joined or left a room or general area. Third, his charm; it made strangers trust and be attracted to him and stay that way for a long while. Fourth, his ability to lie without thinking, excuses and stories rolled off his tongue much easier than the truth did. And fifth, he knew when other people he has observed a few times before lie.

Kristoff was lying.

Hans opened his mouth, risking another slam against the wall. "You care about her sure…" he sucked in a few breaths (damn, it was hard to breathe) "but everyone in this godforsaken kingdom cares about her, about everybody. But you don't lo—"

Hans was cut off by a particularly hard squeeze just under his Adam's apple. The edges of the other's vision grew blurry and black. His breaths were shallow and he finally started to move his body. Hans's hands went straight for his throat, clawing at the larger hand around it. His fingernails scratched at the aggressor feverishly. The weaker mouthed the stronger's name, unable to bring sound into it. He couldn't breathe.

Kristoff quickly let Hans go, the latter falling on his hands and knees. He coughed and clutched his throat, greedily sucking in air. The king looked to the side, unable to watch Hans pull himself together. Two rats came out of the crack in the wall; one carried a baby rat in its mouth, the other followed a few inches behind.

"You really can't do it, can you?" Hans stood, leaning on a wall to keep from falling over.

"Do what?"

"Don't give me that. You know what. You tried to kill me. But I guess you're weaker than you thought."

The former ice-seller pursed his lips in a thin, tight line. He_ was_ weaker than he thought. Somehow, only to Kristoff, killing Hans was the worst thing he could do. Out of all the horrible things he could do to his wife, to his sister-in-law, to his citizens, to anyone else, nothing was as bad as killing Hans. Maybe because he, technically, committed no crimes; he just almost committed crimes (and doesn't treason only count if it's your own kingdom? No? Damn.). Maybe it was because he believed his past excused his actions. Twelve brothers, all older, most ignoring him, it must have been hard. Kristoff couldn't even imagine living like that. It was a wonder Hans made it this far.

What a stupid, stupid idea.

What a stupid, stupid, king.

Without a word, King Kristoff left. Hans closed his eyes and pressed his fingers into his now visible bruise, smirking. It was followed by a low chuckle.

He didn't think Kristoff had it in him to even open the cell door. That changed everything.

* * *

Night fell softly and slowly over Arendelle. Everything was quiet, the bartender at the edge of town kicked out the last customer and closed up, the blacksmith's children whispered tomorrow's plans, the baker and her wife thanked the seamstress and the tailor for inviting them over for dinner and wine, a restless queen woke up her husband in her dash to the bathroom.

Why do they call it morning sickness when it happens at all hours?

Anna, in her excitement ran to Elsa's room to share the news. Kristoff took this chance to share the news to someone else.

"She's pregnant."

Hans cracked an eye open. He had _just_ gotten comfortable in his lousy excuse for a bed and this fucker _had_ to wake him up.

"Oh really? That's nice; tell me more about it in the morning."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Raise it and make sure you water it once a day."

Kristoff slammed his hand against the wall. "She's not pregnant with a plant! I'm serious, what do I do?"

"Don't come down here to talk it over with your wife's only enemy."

Groaning in frustration, the new father went back up the steps.

Sighing in relief, the prisoner went back to sleep and had wonderful dreams about Kristoff struggling.

* * *

The following morning brought different footsteps, lighter ones accompanied by the soft clicking of heels on stone. It was more distinct than the muffled shuffle of leather boots. Else didn't look the same in the darkness, and the only thought that came to Hans's mind was how she looked so wrong in it. It didn't suit her like it did Hans. Her face and figure seemed…untrue in the dim firelight. The blue of her dress turned into a glimmering orange, the paleness of her hair reflected reds and yellows, her skin looked almost tan. For a moment Hans wondered if this is what she would look like if she had mastery over fire instead of ice.

Hans stood up. "Queen Elsa," he exclaimed mockingly, bowing low, "why, this is an unparalleled delight."

It didn't take Hans long to notice she was trying to stay calm in the dangerous man's presence. If he wasn't such a people person, he might have guessed she was perfectly fine down here. Her icy eyes darted around the room, over the vacant cells and rats scurrying into their homes in the walls. She wrung her hands, a telltale sign of her anxiety down here.

"Why has Kristoff been coming down here to see you?" Her voice managed to stay steady, demanding, almost threatening.

"Why don't you ask him?"

"I did."

"_And_?"

"And he denied it. I know he came here last night after Anna found out she was…well I suspect he told."

"I knew he was a terrible liar," Hans chuckled to himself. " Or maybe you snuck out as well? We both know how quickly Anna can fall asleep again, and how hard it is to wake her up. Your footsteps couldn't wake her if you tried."

"You don't know anything about my sister. Or me for that matter; I don't sneak anywhere." Her façade was slipping. Hans just needed to tug a little bit more.

"Oh _really_? And what are you doing now? You're late for breakfast, little queen."

The ice queen scowled and gripped the bars. Hans noticed she wasn't wearing any gloves to protect him (or herself) from her magic. Frost spread from her hands, covering them in white. The prisoner shivered from the sudden cold.

"You're bringing us off topic. Why has Kristoff been visiting you?"

"For tea and cakes."

"I don't have time for this." Glancing behind both shoulders, she flung a small icicle at the prince. It nicked Hans at the tip of his ear. He lightly prodded the cut, lukewarm blood dribbling on his fingers. Hans looked up at her, half a smile on his face.

"Ow."

"Now tell me why—"

"Not even he knows. Every time it's a new topic. But I'd be willing to give you my analysis for a little incentive."

"I'm not letting you out."

"No, no, of course not _that_. I know your anxiety would never allow it. I want more food."

Elsa's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

Hans held up his wrist, mostly just bone now. "More food? Look, I've tried when I was at full strength to get out of here and it didn't work. So getting me more food won't improve my chances of escaping by that much, if that's what you're thinking."

The queen looked down at her own wrists; they were only slightly smaller than Hans's. Elsa remembered what they used to be like. She contemplated.

"Consider it done. Now tell me why you thi—"

"Homesickness. Depression. Guilt. Second guessing. I'll tell you the details after my next meal."

Elsa gave him a quick look over, eyes lingering at the purple and blue bruise around his neck. The ice queen could guess where it was from, but that was another matter for another time. Narrowing her eyes and shaking her head, she sighed. "I shouldn't trust you. I'm really, _really_ stupid for trusting you."

"Oh, Queen Elsa, you're hurting my feelings." Hans put his hand over his heart and frowned in the same way he would to the maids to get them to share their dinner.

"Whatever you're planning, whatever your ill-thought escape attempt is, it won't work. I promise you. You're pathetic for thinking otherwise."

She turned on her heel and headed up the steps.

"We are exactly alike, Ice Queen." She stopped and Hans went on, "The only difference is that your sibling _wanted _you to come out of your room."

Elsa's heart didn't crack, didn't fracture, didn't break like Kristoff's or Anna's. She walked up the rest of the stairs. She knew what a hard childhood was like, not exactly like Hans's, but with the same amount of damage. She turned out alright, she didn't _try_ to kill people, she didn't pity Hans. The ice queen stopped at the thirteenth (an unlucky number) stair to think before shaking her head and carrying on. Hans didn't deserve her pity, or anyone else's; he knew what he was doing, knew that it was wrong and that he could be punished for it. She didn't pity him.

Elsa was the only royalty here with common sense.

Hans would have to be careful around her.


	4. Chapter 4

_In the dark, outside probably. He was running away from something. Or rather, he was trying to run away from something. His feet kept slipping under him. Twelve black figures loomed over Hans, their hands grabbing and pinching and pulling at his clothes and hair. A great hole opened up underneath him with teeth sharp as spears, swallowing him up whole like a monster. He screamed as he fell._

_In his room, on his bed. A large, black blob came towards him with a belt in hand. _

"Come on, Hans. You can't hide from us forever."

_Hans ran down a hallway that stretched on forever. The blob came closer, closer, closer until_

_In the food pantry on the first floor. Hans peeped through a crack in the door, watching the blobs search for him. One is pulling off all the table cloths and Two is pushing cooking supplies off the high counters. His breathing gets faster and he realizes two things. First: he's naked. Second: Three, the one with the belt, found him. Hans thrashed and struggled in Three's arms, stabbing him with a knife had suddenly had. A white, familiar liquid seeped out instead of blood._

_In the broom closet on the third floor. His hands were bloody, splinters and blisters covering them from pounding, pounding, pounding on the door. His throat was raw and aching from screaming over and over again to let him out. His face was wet with tears. Long, boney fingers combed through his hair and cupped his cheek._

_In his mother's room on the fifth floor. She lay on the bed, sick like she always was. Her hands, frail and withered, cupped his cheek. With her thumb, she wiped away the tears and with a crook of her finger urged Hans to lean in closer. She put her mouth by his ear and screamed._

"If only there was someone out there who loved you!"

Hans jolted up, pushing the hair clinging to his forehead back. His face was covered in sweat and he panted. Once steady hands shook from a mere dream. Pathetic.

"Just a dream….Just a dream," he whispered to himself. The prisoner lay back down, calming his breathing. It was just a dream. Just a stupid, meaningless dream.

Leather-clad feet came down the steps in a hurry. Kristoff looked almost panicked. He clung to the bars like a child to their mother's skirt ("Don't do that, Hans, honey. You'll wrinkle the fabric and I'll have to send it back down to Catherine. Why don't you cause trouble somewhere else?").

"Elsa came down here yesterday; what did she ask you?" Anxiety rose in his voice. Anyone could tell that.

"She asked why you were coming down here."

"And?"

"And I told her."

"Why?"

Hans sat up, draping his arms over his knees. "Because I didn't want her freezing me, that's why."

"She wouldn't have—"

"She was thinking about it but her anxiety got in the way."

"You didn't tell her why for free."

"Of course not."

"Then what did—"

"More food. Half a meal a day isn't very healthy, even for prisoners."

Kristoff shook his head and left.

"What did your brothers do to you?"

Hans looked up from his lap where he was making a braid out of straw. It surprised him; he thought Kristoff would wait a long while before asking. This made his plan go a lot faster.

"A lot of things," the prisoner sighed. He closed his eyes, brow furrowing slightly at the memories of his brothers. "They locked me in closets until the maids found me, ignore me, stole my dinner, beat me until I couldn't stand, and…" Hans swallowed hard. "And a lot of other things."

Kristoff took pity on Hans for the third time. He knew what it was like to be in a big family, to be teased, but this was on a whole new level. No wonder Hans was so broken. He's been breaking ever since he became the thirteenth brother. An unlucky number.

"Why?"

Hans opened his eyes, caught off-guard by the simple question.  
"Why?" He never thought of the 'why'. It just always was, there never was a reason, never was a 'why'. "Because I'm the youngest I suppose…" Hans looked down, mask slipping slightly before he pulled it back up. "Or because I'm the prettiest." The prince smirked smugly at his own complement.

The prettiest. That stuck out the most to Kristoff. Not the most handsome, or even most attractive, but the prettiest. He supposed pretty could be used to describe any gendered person, but when used to explain the attractiveness of Hans, a fairly masculine man, it was out of place. Pretty was what Kristoff called Anna after they had…

What were those other things?

"Didn't your father or mother do anything?"

The prisoner scoffed and shook his head at the idea. "Of course not. After I was born my mother got very sick and couldn't do much of anything but lay there in bed. Though she could always throw her books at my father when he wouldn't leave." He snickered at the thought. "And my father did it too. He'd get drunk off his ass and start to beat me. But after I turned 14 I found a hiding place he couldn't fit into.  
"He had gotten rather fat, probably stealing some of mother's meals every day. His entire wardrobe was handed down to Harold and Henry. As if they already didn't look enough like him. Maybe they'll get fat too."

"Harold and Henry are your brothers?"

"Unfortunately. They were the worst out of all the others, them and Harrison."

"What made them the worst?" Kristoff leaned in closer, desperate for answers.

_In his room, on his bed. A large, black blob came towards him with a belt in hand. "Come on, Hans. You can't hide from us forever." Three and Four pin him down, kissing his neck and chest and stomach and down to his—_

"I'm not going to burden you with it." The lightness of is voice was gone.

And that made Kristoff realize the lightness in his previous statements. His mother was sick, probably with a terminal illness, his brothers locked him in closets and abused him, and his father was a drunk who had partaken in the abusing. But it was all said as if it was completely normal, it was said as casually as 'I have twelve older brothers'.

There was something worse that happened, worse than dark closets and beatings.

What were those other things?

_In his cell, in the darkest part of Arendelle. A large shadow opens his door and pulls him up. Two more come down the stairs, even larger than the one holding his wrist. The smallest shadow pins him against the wall, ice shackles keeping him in place. One of the bigger two came up to him and ran thick fingers across his chest. It leaned in to his ear and whispered._

"Why are you so broken, Hans?"

_A kiss to his ear._

"What made your heart freeze and shatter?"

_A kiss to his neck._

"Who's fault is it that you're down here?"

_A kiss to his collarbone._

_The ice shackles grew, going down his arms and up his legs. The last shadow approached him. It leaned in and held his chin up in a tight grip. The ice covered all of his body and started to inch up his neck._

"Oh, Hans. If only there was someone out there who loved you."

_Hans screamed and tried to thrash around, but was frozen, now completely covered in ice._

_In the ballroom, in the largest room in Arendelle. Shadows all around him are dancing, waltzing to be specific. There is no music, or any sound at all. A shadow grabs him and they start to waltz together. It grabs his ass and pulls him in closer. Hans manages to get away. He looks up. All he can see is a shimmering blue gown and rope. Elsa is hanging on the chandelier by the neck._

_All the shadows stop dancing and grab at him, pulling, tugging, pinching, biting, clawing. He tries to scream but nothing comes out of his throat. They start to chant in unison._

"If only there was someone out there who loved you."

_The shadows swallow him up._

_No one hears Hans screaming._

No one hears Hans crying.


End file.
